I feel terrible.  I had no hope for myself, no trust in myself to improve.  Perhaps it was a self-fulfilling prophecy.  I felt empty from the moment he left me.  Emptier still without my usual close friends.  I went behind his back so I could have both.  I wanted a friend that he didn't want me to have, but I wanted to make him happy.  In the end I was selfish and made him anything but happy.  I just made myself "happy", and I gotta say.. if this is happiness, I may as well end it now...

I feel the most self confident when i am happy and energized.  I can use my energy to stand tall and smile as I walk around others.  I can make myself feel good simply by feeling good.  I love to dress up when I am feeling self-confident.  Many people will apply make-up or wear attractive clothing when they feel less secure, in order to boost that self-esteem.  I tend to dress up when I am already feeling great about myself.  It just magnifies the feeling :)

Music by far.  It's hard for me to imagine being without the gift of music.  I have always sung to myself since I was a baby, and playing the piano is the most beautiful release of emotion that I know of.  Even if I went deaf, my mind and life would be filled with music.

It's a hard thing to witness the end to a relationship.  Like the remains of a raging fire that once burned passionately, the embers that remain slowly die no matter how much you blow on them to keep them alive.  Many of us enter into relationships seeking a "partner in crime" or just someone who can understand us.  These start out as a lively and bright spark, and slowly build into a steady blaze.  However, if the fire is not maintained it can easily burn out of control or subside to a weak flicker.  Relationships are not something you can just jump into expecting all the results and no work.  That is the stuff of high school days.  Serious partnerships are harder than being alone by far.  There are values to compare, differences to work through, and just general arguments that have to be resolved in order for a bond to grow and last.  If you are not strong enough to handle a few fights, then you obviously aren't ready for much of a commitment.  Likewise, any relationship that is constantly in turmoil is unlikely to be worth all that hot air.  Sometimes it is just best to move along.

Nothing to see here....

Having been through a few (seven and counting) boyfriends myself in just 4 years, I've witnessed firsthand the disorder and confusion that results from sticking to a relationship that was really just a piece of metal covered in gasoline: a quick spark and it burns brightly in a flash, but just as quickly it's gone.  Without a solid flammable material for a base, the fire has nothing to feed off of, and isn't much of a fire for long.  Taking the time to gather kindling, wood and all the other materials necessary for a lasting fire, will leave you with a bright and toasty bonfire that will last as long as you keep feeding it what it needs which is, in essence, Love.

There was a minor upset in my personal life tonight.  It would not have bothered me so much if I had not been ruthlessly shamed.  It is of no fault but my own, however, I have never been much like rubber.  In fact, I think I may even be glue of the cyanoacrylate variety.  I remember very clearly one particular insult directed specifically at me in the seventh grade.  "Elise you're so annoying!" 

Not much to the casual observer.

Devastating to insecure little me. I am definately not rubber because it has stuck with me for 6 years.

Now, all these years later, a much more colorful insult, along with one of my own (that he openly agreed with) was thrown my way.  I'm trying hard to be rubber this time, and let it just bounce back off.  But being called a dumbass for breaking trust (even with a most untrustworthy guy) really hit me hard.  This man I speak of and I were chatting online when a random "So when are you gonna send me some more pictures?" comes up.  Now this man was not speaking of nature photography, or a baby album.  My past holds many insecurities and I often try to find acceptance in the wrong places.  I have been trying so hard to put that past behind me, and I am really doing a great job.  When this man asked, I said "No, I won't be doing that anymore. I've chosen to grow up."  He was outwardly receptive to the idea, and wasn't giving me any trouble, but when I copy/pasted the conversation to my friend to show him how well I was doing, he went behind my back to threaten and intimidate the man.  This is when the insults started coming.  The guy asks me, "Who is _______?" and I just blanched.  All I could say was "Oh no" and he replies with "you're a dumbass". 

I died.

I cursed at my close friend.

I threw a fit and felt as if my world was falling apart.

It was a very hard thing for me to deal with, but I'm forcing myself to see it how I should:  This man was not worthy of my presence, and I need no scum like him to make me feel wanted.

The relationship between myself and two others.  I broke the trust of both involved and ended up losing one.  Thankfully, the stronger of the two relationships actually grew.

I am having issues.  That's not what I'm going to talk about today, however.  Instead, I choose to talk about my mother's issues, and how they are affecting me.

"It would be nice to have some sort of a relationship with you," she says, after my insistence that I can handle taking a day off from work.  I have been feeling somewhat under the weather and decided to extend my weekend so I could fully recover.  Though she is my mother, and always will be, I am now the one in charge of my career choices and life decisions, right?  At least I should be.  Perhaps he is only attempting to give advice, but her methods are somewhat (ah and here's that word so often associated with mothers) "nagging".  I basically told her I just don't want to hear it.  Because I don't.  I'm smart enough to think through my actions, and if I make the wrong choice, I will suffer the consequences.  Not that I ever make wrong choices.

Over the weekend I had the same problem, overhearing her tell my dad that she would rather stay out in the country just so she could get away from me.  I had stayed in the house nearly that whole day while she and my dad were out at church, lunch and on the boat.  I barely saw her and yet the few moments I did, I apparently did something so terrible that it prompted her to consider staying in Milford.  All I remember doing was asking her how to use the washing machine....

My headache only seems to increase when she's around, somewhat defeating the purpose of staying home from work.  I'm definately going tomorrow.

For those of you that have read most of my past blogs, it will come as no surprise to you that I am, once again, living unhappily in New York.  As I sit here trying to drown out city noise with the sounds of the Forest Meditation Room, I wonder if it really is at all possible for me to be content here.  I picked a college in a beautiful landscape and I absolutely love it there.  There's a gigantimongous (big) memorial park a few steps away that is pure, unparkified, glorious woods (minus ATV trail and the occasional paintball game).  There's actually GRASS on campus and squirrels everywhere!  And now here I am in New York again, with a park just as big (that's full of noise and people and fences and concrete) and I find myself wanting to go back to school for numerous reasons.  

After 19 years apart, I have finally reached the point in my life where I want to contact my biological parents. My parents (I will always refer to my adoptive parents as "my parents) were always very open about discussing my adoption, even reading me children's books about it on each anniversary of the day I came to live with them. I have an older brother, by 5 years, who was also adopted but from a different family. We were both adopted at about 6 months old so neither of us have any memory of our former lives.
Years passed and I matured, coming to understand the depth of my past bit by bit. I began to ask more questions about my birthparents. I found out that my bio-mother left a knitted sweater and bonnet and my bio-dad had left me his guitar. I had always thought that guitar was my Dad's since he played it a few times and kept it in his office. I looked inside the little compartment and found a picture of a boy in a red sox baseball uniform, wearing Converse high tops in classic black. He looked a lot like me and eventually it hit me....
Another time, soon after, I became even more curious and went thruogh some files. I found out a little bit more about my bio-mom's side of the family and their health problems. In the same folder I found a letter from my bio-dad to me. It was three pages, handwritten. It sounded very heartfelt and it made me feel an emotion I wasn't quite sure of.
Now that I am a legal adult and somewhat settled down for a while in college, I have increased my efforts to find my biological parents and speak with them. For a while the adoption agency didn't have much of a lead, but just yesterday I got a call back from them with the name, email, and phone number of my bio-mom.

I have no idea what to do. Obviously, the first attempt to communicate would be taken through email, but I can't think of what to say... I don't know whether to make it short and to the point, or a life story......

What do I do?

I'm waiting for myself to stop freaking out about waiting.  Just be patient, Elise! Jeez!